On the screen, Ethan stood in sharp digital focus between Emily and the back door.

Emily was clutching a blue folder tight against her ribs when Ethan reached out and ripped the papers from her hands, sending a ceramic mug crashing to the floor.

Richard didn’t move a muscle.

His right hand stayed in his jacket pocket, his thumb working the rough edge of his old scar.

“That’s the preliminary accounting audit for the defense subcontracts,” Sarah said, her voice clinical and calm.

“The task force’s missing piece.”